I'm sorry to say that I'm not giving you a tale of passion based on the title, but rather it's a tale of how the human body is designed with an built in system to alert you, and hopefully prevent you, from stupid and dangerous things.
Now I'm alive to tell the story, so It really mustn't have been that bad! Before I tell the ugly story, I have to tell the good one from today.
Now I'm alive to tell the story, so It really mustn't have been that bad! Before I tell the ugly story, I have to tell the good one from today.
Late morning we left the hotel to have a visit with a family across the river from our hotel in Hanoi thanks to an introduction from my Aunt Peg. Ncog is a local man who about 14 years boarded with my aunt in Winnipeg for a year while he studied at the University of Manitoba. After 13 years in Canada he returned here to continue his architecture career and start his family. We met his pregnant wife, his mom and step-dad. All were lovely, very hospitable and willing to give us insight into a normal family life here in Vietnam, which was a real treat. We stayed for a delicious lunch then proceeded to walk back across the river on a well known bridge designed by Gustav Eiffel.
To suggest that no one had maintained the bridge since it was built a hundred years ago and survived a nasty multi-year war, would be stretching the truth...I think.
We started walking across the bridge that spans the Red River along the narrow sidewalk that separates the few crazy pedestrians from the scooter traffic and centre rail line. It's narrow enough for only one person at a time; George led the way, followed by Barry, then Molly and me. It's a good thing I went last because I wouldn't have led us onto this contraption that had my heart palpitating for the 2km span.
It's funny how your brain sends signals to not do something, while the same brain ignores the alerts and fear and puts one foot in front of the other. Remember the old dunk tanks at the carnivals where you willingly sit on a stool you know will collapse when someone throws a ball successfully at the target? You know you'll fall. You know you'll get wet. You're just waiting to plunge. Well, walking across the bridge today felt like that...every...step...of....the...way. Each step on too-thin, too-narrow slabs of concrete reminded me of stepping onto the collapsable dunk tank seat. One step might just crack the concrete in half and you plummet through the bridge straight into the murky river far below.
I tried not to look down as I could see straight through the rain slats to the river, but the slabs were uneven and tripping was not an option as the traffic was so close you could feel the breeze of the scooters on your arms. So this was my view.
To suggest that no one had maintained the bridge since it was built a hundred years ago and survived a nasty multi-year war, would be stretching the truth...I think.
We started walking across the bridge that spans the Red River along the narrow sidewalk that separates the few crazy pedestrians from the scooter traffic and centre rail line. It's narrow enough for only one person at a time; George led the way, followed by Barry, then Molly and me. It's a good thing I went last because I wouldn't have led us onto this contraption that had my heart palpitating for the 2km span.
It's funny how your brain sends signals to not do something, while the same brain ignores the alerts and fear and puts one foot in front of the other. Remember the old dunk tanks at the carnivals where you willingly sit on a stool you know will collapse when someone throws a ball successfully at the target? You know you'll fall. You know you'll get wet. You're just waiting to plunge. Well, walking across the bridge today felt like that...every...step...of....the...way. Each step on too-thin, too-narrow slabs of concrete reminded me of stepping onto the collapsable dunk tank seat. One step might just crack the concrete in half and you plummet through the bridge straight into the murky river far below.
I tried not to look down as I could see straight through the rain slats to the river, but the slabs were uneven and tripping was not an option as the traffic was so close you could feel the breeze of the scooters on your arms. So this was my view.
Molly turned around a few times to say she was a little nervous, but I told her to just keep walking. What kind of selfish parent says that? I was just too busy trying to calm myself with "though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." to console her at the same time.
Needless to say we made it across this horrible bridge intact and I was actually much more at peace walking amongst the crazy scooter traffic on solid ground.
Eiffel should have stuck to designing towers.
This is a bit of what we saw.
Needless to say we made it across this horrible bridge intact and I was actually much more at peace walking amongst the crazy scooter traffic on solid ground.
Eiffel should have stuck to designing towers.
This is a bit of what we saw.
Yeah, back in safe traffic.
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